


Insomnia

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, No Plot/Plotless, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: No plot. I couldn't sleep the other night, so neither could Jack.





	1. Chapter 1

They were a half block behind. Two of them. And he was pretty sure by now that they were following him.

His first thought was to make his way to City South as quickly as possible, but that would require navigating streets that would be deserted at this time of night—or, more accurately, early morning.

Right now he was still in a part of town that, while not exactly teeming with activity, still had enough foot traffic to and from after hours clubs and dance halls that they wouldn’t dare make a move yet.

It was just dumb luck that they’d recognized him and he was sure they were only acting on the unexpected opportunity. He wasn’t well liked among a certain element and the prospect of extracting some revenge by roughing him up was most likely the motive behind their pursuit.

He didn’t think they’d do him great, or permanent, bodily harm, but they would enjoy the damage to his credibility. They probably planned to jump him at the first opportunity and then leave him in front of the nearest den of ill repute.

 _Damn_. What the hell was he doing out here again anyway? These nocturnal walkabouts had once been a regular occurrence. They’d started after the war, and for years he’d wake, a few hours after falling asleep, and nothing could settle him again but getting out under the stars for awhile.

It had driven his ex-wife nuts. Rosie hated to wake and find him gone and wanted to know why. He couldn’t tell her. Because he didn't know. What did it matter anyway? He couldn’t sleep, so he walked. Wasn’t that better than tossing about and disturbing her sleep too?

The thing is, he couldn’t accurately remember the last time this had happened. He tried to think when it had stopped. When he’d started sleeping through the night again, but couldn’t put his finger on it.

And, since he didn’t know why it had stopped, he didn’t know why it had started again either. All he knew was that tonight he’d woken with that familiar restlessness, so he’d pulled on a pair of trousers and a jumper and headed out into the night.

The distance he’d traveled this time wasn’t unusual. There were many nights he’d covered more miles, but he usually kept to residential streets and parks—where it was peaceful and dark and one could actually see the stars. What had taken him in this direction, he couldn’t imagine.

On second thought, he could. He’d been thinking about her. They’d been officially stepping out for about a month now. They were taking things slowly, and it was better than he’d even imagined, but it was getting increasingly harder to kiss her goodnight and leave.

He laughed to himself. Perhaps this new sleeplessness wasn’t such a big mystery after all.

It also didn’t take an expert in psychology to figure out why his wanderings had brought him to the vicinity of some of her favorite late night haunts.

Speaking of her favorite haunts, there was one just up ahead. He was reminded of the men shadowing him and decided his best bet was to duck inside and try to lose them in a crowd, but, attired as he was, he'd probably stand out like a sore thumb. Hopefully there was a back door he could slip through unnoticed. He reached the end of the street and picked up speed.

He knew the club was in the middle of the block. It was one of the posher of the neighborhood establishments, but close enough to the seedier side of town to feel a bit dangerous. It brought musicians from all over the world in, and advertised as a dance hall, but everyone knew illicit booze was also on offer. It wouldn’t be great for his reputation to be seen in the place, as he’d told her many times, but tonight it was better than the alternative.

His eyes swept the street for the tell-tale green awning and fell on something far more welcome on the sidewalk. A beaded dress, shimmering in the dull light of a street lamp.

He’d know that sway anywhere.

If that weren’t enough, he could hear the familiar cadence of her heels clicking on the sidewalk and the happy tune she hummed quietly. He doubled his pace.

Just as she turned the ignition, he swung his legs over the passenger door and slid into the seat beside her. She spun toward him, her little pearl handled revolver already in her grip and aimed squarely at his head.

“Jack!” she gasped. “I nearly shot you!”

“Good morning, Miss Fisher. Can you drive?”

“What?”

“Can you drive?”

“Of course I can drive!” She sounded insulted.

“Then, please do,” he said. She just stared at him in confusion.

“Drive!” he insisted, “and with your usual disregard for road rules, if you please.”

“What has gotten into you?”

He looked quickly over his shoulder and watched his pursuers turn onto the street. They saw the illuminated tail lights and broke into a run. One of them reach into his coat pocket, and as they came under the street lamp, Jack recognized the familiar shape of a revolver. Apparently the situation was a little more dire than he’d thought.

“The car, Phryne!” he hissed as he removed his hat and sunk down in the seat. “Drive! Like you stole it. Now!”

Understanding dawned on her face. Her foot hit the gas and the engine roared. Tires screamed against the pavement, spitting gravel as she tore into the street.

“Whoo hoo!” she hollered, as the car hit a bump and went momentarily airborne. She flew to the end of the block and turned the corner, the car skidding nearly sideways and threatening to spin out. She gripped the wheel firmly bringing it under control with the bravado of a drover corralling a recalcitrant bull. “Where to, Jack?”

“I don’t care,” he yelled over the rush of the wind, “but I think you can slow down now.”

She did. Just a little.

“Who were those men? What was that about?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Nothing really. Just the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“They meant you harm,” she said.

“Most likely.”

“Why?”

“How should I know? I can think of any number of reasons.”

“Well, I’m glad I could assist, but what were you doing wandering about on your own at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“But you already know the answer to that.”

He pulled himself up in the seat, adrenaline still coursing through his body. He’d been preparing for flight, or fight, and now, the threat so suddenly removed, he felt unsettled. On edge.

His eyes roamed slowly over his rescuer properly for the first time. In the rush of their departure, her fox stole had fallen from her shoulders leaving them bare, exposed to the night air and his rather heated gaze. Her gown was shot over with beading that shimmered, accentuating each line and curve to perfection. The skirt was little more than a curtain of fringe that parted and fell to either side of her thigh.

“Dancing. I believe you said.”

His voice hit a register so low it was more vibration than actual sound. He began to rethink his stubborn refusal to accompany her on her evenings out. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from stretching out his hand to trail it along the exposed stocking above her knee, his eyes following hungrily.

She turned her head to him and their eyes met, just for a moment. She inhaled sharply at whatever it was she saw in his and she shivered.

He reached to pull the fur stole up over her shoulders, letting the tips of his fingers brush lightly along the back of her neck then drift up to take one of her dangling earrings between his thumb and forefinger.

“Exquisite,” he breathed.

The car came to a screeching halt in the middle of the deserted road and she slammed it into park. She turned and grabbed a fistful of his jumper and dragged him to her, crushing her mouth against his. It didn’t take much urging for his lips to part and invite her tongue inside to tangle with his. She tasted faintly of lemon, gin and something indefinable, but entirely more intoxicating.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands went to her waist to pull her closer. The gear shift made it impossible to bring her as near as he desired so he settled for dragging one hand up her ribcage to cover her breast.

It was plump and firm. The beading of her dress rough against his palm. He curled his fingers around it, squeezing gently. She moaned and pressed as close to him as possible before pulling away abruptly. His head darted forward, trying to follow her suddenly disappearing lips. He blinked.

She sat facing him, her chest heaving. Her lipstick smeared. The stole had fallen away again and her skin looked faintly flushed.

She reached over to swipe her thumb roughly over his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut at the touch. He sucked the roaming thumb into his mouth grazing it with his teeth and opening his eyes to lock with hers.

Her tongue darted out between her lips and she smiled. A wicked grin that sent whatever blood remained in his head rapidly south. She turned to face the road, calmly put the car in gear and proceeded ahead at her usual, unadvisedly fast pace.

“When are you due at the station?” she asked. He checked his watch.

“Five hours, more or less.”

“I see.”

He sat back, his body humming. He worked to control his breathing and calm the reaction he’d had to her kiss, though he knew she’d already seen it and didn’t seem offended.

He watched the wheels turning in her head. Her place was closer, and arguably more comfortable in its luxury, but he couldn’t go to work dressed in his wooly jumper.

She spun the car around and headed in the direction of his home, choosing more time together over creature comforts, and his heart flopped in his chest.

He placed his hand on her thigh and gave a light squeeze. Her eyes remained on the road but her lips parted as she expelled a rush of air from her lungs.

She covered his hand with her own and coaxed it higher until he could feel where stocking gave way to skin. He slid his thumb under the elastic strap of her garter, inching ever higher, his fingertips floating on the silken skin until her grip tightened, stopping him.

“Hold that thought, darling,” she sighed, squirming slightly. “Almost there.”

“Hurry.”

“Inspector! Are you actively encouraging me to break the law?”

He leaned in to her, his chin at her shoulder, his lips a breath away from her ear.

“If needs must, Miss Fisher. Five hours is not nearly enough time for what I have in mind for you.”

She pushed the pedal to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne takes Jack home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking melatonin to help me sleep through the night. It seems to be helping. 
> 
> Jack's trying something else and I'm not sure sleeping is his top priority.

He might not have believed this was actually happening if not for the overwhelming sensations overtaking his body.

He’d shut the door behind them and pressed her up against it. His tongue was in her mouth, his hands pushing aside the fringe and edging what there was of a skirt up over her hips. He couldn’t make out which was softer, her skin or the silk of her lingerie. His hand stroked along her warm inner thigh and he bent to kiss her neck.

“Touch me, Jack,” she murmured into his ear, and so he did.

Her hands, which were under his jumper, pressed firmly to his back and she arched into the touch. When he caressed that particular spot inside her, circling with the tip of his finger, he felt her nails dig into his skin.

He took that as encouragement and continued his efforts, making note of what caused an increase in her breathing, or had her thrusting her hips toward him, until she made that sound. A groaning, guttural noise that he captured with his mouth and was sure he’d never forget.

In fact he planned to recall it often. That moment when he’d made Phryne Fisher come apart for the first time. She slumped against the door and took his face in her hands, kissing him soundly.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

He led her down the hall and they were in the process of removing each other’s clothing as quickly as was humanly possible. Her dress was in a puddle around her feet. His trousers were undone and hanging open. She tugged his jumper up and suddenly stopped—in the middle of pulling it over his head.

“Damn!”

“What is it?” He asked, finishing the job and freeing himself from the wooly prison.

“I didn’t think this through,” she said, looking—well, he wasn’t sure what to make of the look.

“What’s wrong, Phryne? Are you unsure? Do you want to wait? I can wait,” he said, earnestly, though all evidence appeared to argue the opposite.

“Well I can’t! I don’t want to wait. We’ve waited long enough!”

“Thank god,” he exclaimed, but he was concerned that she sounded slightly hysterical. “Then, what’s the problem?”

“I shouldn’t have come _here_.”

“You want to leave?”

“No!”

He scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration.

“Phryne, love. Admittedly, my brain is not functioning at the highest level right now, but you’re not making any sense.”

“I brought us here because I wanted more time with you. I didn’t want you to have to rush off.”

“I know, and you’ve no idea how happy that makes me.”

“But Jack. I’m not at my home,” she said with an emphasis on the final word.

“No. You’re at my home,” he said, as though to a small, confused child. Perhaps she’d had more to drink tonight than he’d thought.

“Exactly. I’m at your home, while my things—or rather, one very important thing—is at _my_ home.”

“Oh!” he said, thankful to finally understand.

“I didn’t think twice because, normally I’d have it in my bag when I went out, but you and I, well, we’ve been—and I didn’t—I mean I haven’t. Not since you and I started. And I was only going out for the dancing tonight and wasn’t meant to see you, so there was no need for it and—”

She was speaking at an alarming rate.

“Phryne. It’s all right,” he assured her.

“It isn’t! Look at you! You’re so beautiful, and I want you so much, and it’s quite clear you want me,” she said, with a flourish of her hand toward the sizable erection he’d managed to maintain despite the convoluted and confusing conversation they were having, “and now I’ve gone and spoiled it all!”

“Phryne,” he said again, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye, “Nothing is spoiled. I’ve got this covered, or rather, I will have. If that’s acceptable to you.”

Her eyes went wide and she snorted. “Jack Robinson. Did you just make a joke? About contraception?”

“It didn’t start out that way.”

“So,” she raised a questioning eyebrow, “you have...”

“Precautions.”

“That is the best news I’ve heard all night.”

“Good. If that’s settled, can I get back to tearing your clothes off?”

She stepped back, a look of feigned indignation on her face.

“There will be no tearing, Jack. This is fine oriental silk.”

She spread her hand across the top of her camisole and proceeded to feel her way down her torso taking care to skim over her breasts. Her nipples were two stiff peaks beneath the pale blue fabric and he wanted to latch onto them and suckle.

She stopped just at the waistline of her tap pants, the tips of two fingers dipping beneath as if pointing the way to the heaven she was offering him.

“I can’t guarantee a great deal of care. Not when you look at me like that,” he said with a smirk. “Perhaps you should remove them yourself. Just to be safe.”

“You first,” she said, dropping her eyes to his crotch. “That’s starting to look uncomfortable.”

He moved swiftly under her watchful eye. Kicking out of his shoes as he unbuttoned his braces. Trousers and socks were pushed off in one swift motion and he left them in a heap on the floor without a care. When he was down to just the short legged, sleeveless union suit he favored for sleeping, she stopped him, stepping forward and placing her hand on his chest. She walked slowly behind him, her hand dragging around to his back before dropping to slide over his buttocks.

“Phryne? What are doing?”

“Shhh! I’m admiring you, Jack.”

And, in all honesty, he didn’t think he’d ever felt so admired, so wanted, in his life. The way her hands were moving over him and her little hum of approval. It made him feel smug and exhilarated. He stood still, allowing her to explore.

She pressed herself to his back, wrapped her arms around him and began to work open the buttons at his chest. Once she’d released the last button, she drew the suit down over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and he stepped out and kicked it away with as little movement as possible.

Her hands ran over his shoulders, chest and abdomen. Lower and lower until, finally, she wrapped them around his cock, stroking him gently.

He fought the urge to turn and throw her down onto the bed. He wanted to take his time. To concentrate on the feel of her silk clad form pressed up against his back, her hands around him, soft and warm. He’d longed for her to touch him like this. He wanted to remember every moment. Every detail.

She was trailing kisses along his shoulders. Telling him how beautiful he was, how wonderful he felt. How the weight of him in her hands had her aching.

She said she’d spent countless nights imagining how it would feel to have him inside her.

His head was spinning and his knees were beginning to go weak when, with one last, loving stoke, she released him and pulled away.

He turned, glassy eyed and dizzy, to see where she’d gone and once she knew he was paying attention, she removed her camisole. Slowly opening the buttons at the side so that it could fall away.

His hands itched to touch her. To feel the soft mounds of her breasts, bare against his palms, but he held firm, enjoying her slow strip tease.

She hooked her hands inside her pants and with a soft shimmy of her hips, they slid to the ground.

She was glorious. A goddess come to life to stand in his unworthy bedroom and he wondered if all of this was just some fevered dream. If it was, he never wanted to wake.

She pushed him down onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

He was on his back, his eyes closed, legs spread to accommodate her between them. She was on top of him, her head on his chest, having immediately crawled over and clung to him as soon as he returned to their bed.

One of his hands rested on the still slightly damp skin of her back. He wasn’t sure anything had ever felt better than her completely relaxed weight on top of him.

 _That’s a lie_ , he thought, a smirk forming. As good as this felt, what they’d just done had felt better. So much better he didn’t think the language had yet been invented to describe it.

Her hand moved down his side and settled on his hip.

“You kept me waiting long enough, Jack.”

“Hmmm. That may have been a tactical error on my part.”

He had no complaints personally, but the urgency with which he’d taken her might have lacked the finesse she was undoubtedly used to and he may, or may not, have verbalized some truly filthy thoughts as they ran through his head.

“On the contrary,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to be so deprived, it made for an encounter that was—how should I put it...”

“Depraved?” He offered.

“Accurate and alliterate. Well done, Jack. And, I mean that in a multitude of ways.”

He laughed. Her hand gripped his hip and she moaned, pressing her pelvis firmly to his.

“Jack! Do that again!”

“Do what?”

“Laugh. That felt wonderful.”

“Come here,” he said, lifting her to him so he could kiss her. A long, deep kiss. He loved the way she tasted and for a fleeting moment thought he might never need any other form of sustenance but this.

She sighed. Looking entirely happy and satisfied. She settled her head in the crook of his shoulder, her fingers playing among the smattering of hair on his chest.

“These midnight strolls of yours. Are they frequent?” she asked.

“Define frequent.”

She pinched his waist and he looked down on her with a scowl.

“Don’t prevaricate,” she scolded.

“Not anymore,” he answered.

“But they were once?”

“Yes. I suppose they were.”

“Why?”

“I never bothered to figure it out. They helped.”

“That’s reason enough then,” she declared. “Next time, instead of wandering aimlessly, head for my home.”

“I’m not sure that would help me get any sleep.”

“Perhaps not,” she agreed and even without looking he could see the sly grin on her face. “What would you have done if you hadn’t come across me?”

“I was planning to get lost inside that dance hall you’re so fond of.”

“Jazz club, Jack. Dance hall sounds like something my Aunt Prudence might have visited in her distant youth.”

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to imply you were anything but thoroughly modern, Miss Fisher.”

“Is that what it takes to get you inside that place? A threat to your life?” she asked, rolling to her side and rising on one elbow to look at him accusingly.

“I’m not sure they meant to kill me.”

“I’m quite sure they did. All of my invitations to come dancing fell on deaf ears, but two thugs can chase you right through the doors. What about your precious reputation?” She teased.

“I may have overestimated its importance. Apparently I put protecting life and limb above it.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but does that mean I have to threaten you with bodily harm to get you to go dancing?”

“There is one other thing that might persuade me that you haven’t yet tried.”

“Enlighten me. What have I missed?”

“You’ve never been dressed for dancing when you’ve asked.” He turned to face her, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “That dress, Phryne. All I could think of was touching it. Touching you. Holding you close and running my hands all over you. Concern for my reputation doesn’t stand a chance against you in that dress.”

“What about out of it?”

“That will be my ruin,” he said, rolling to pin her underneath him.

“But what a way to go,” she sighed as his lips found her neck and that spot just below her ear that made her swoon. 

“I’m very glad I found you before any harm could come to you, Jack,” she said.

“I think it’s more accurate to say I found you,” he said, then, suddenly concerned she might misunderstand and think he’d been following her on her night out, he lifted his head and added, “it was purely by chance, you know. I wasn’t looking for you.”

“I wasn’t looking for you either,” she said, her hands slipping over his back, “but the sentiment stands. I’m very glad I found you.”

“So am I, Miss Fisher.”

She smiled and pulled his head back down, directing him to her breast this time. He was pleased, and a little surprised, to find his body responding quickly.

He moved against her, this time hoping to take it slow. To memorize each line and curve of her body. Wring from her every ounce of pleasure he could and leave her so satisfied she’d never want anyone else ever again.

It was a tall order, but one he thought worthy of the effort.

“Can you see the clock, Miss Fisher? How much time do we have?”

“Hang the clock, Jack. We’ve all the time in the world.”

* * *

 

 She heard Mr. Butler greet him and with one last glance in the mirror, flew from her room. She’d meant to descend the stairs gracefully, seductively, but she was so happily excited she couldn’t keep from practically skipping down them.

She’d had the dress made to her detailed specifications. The beading was very strategically placed to draw his eye—along the dip of the neckline and in curves over her hips that joined together in a subtle V shape at the center front.

Much of the dress was free of beading so that his hands, when holding her on the dance floor, would feel the heat of her skin through the smooth silk. The handkerchief hem was deceptively modest, falling to just above the knee when stationary, but floating up and around her thighs when she danced. A high slit along one side would only be revealed when she spun.

It was really more weapon than dress and she could see the appreciation in his eyes as she drew near.

“So the day has finally come when I get you to take me dancing, Inspector!” she crowed, stepping close. She took his tie between her fingers, running from the knot to where it disappeared into his waistcoat.

It was nearly solid black and thinner than the ones he wore during the day. The suit, too, was of a lighter weave, in deep charcoal with narrow lapels. His hair was still neatly combed and pomaded, but the curl was less restrained across his forehead.

He bent and kissed her lightly, being careful not to smudge her lipstick.

“You win, Miss Fisher.” He smiled broadly at her, something she’d rarely seen, until recently. “Shall we?” he said, offering his arm.

This man she was stepping out with tonight was ‘Jack’, as opposed to ‘the inspector,’ and she’d been seeing more and more of him lately.

As much as she adored ‘the inspector,’ this ‘Jack,’ the one that came out to play at night—and occasionally at other hours—was equally attractive and a whole lot of fun.

And the best part was, both of them were hers.


End file.
